12 Days of Christmas, series at Spillwords.com

A series, consisting of different authors and different literary works that embrace the Christmas Holiday, and the joy of this season.

OURS

Alyssa Brocker·December 18, 2016

OURS written by: Alyssa Brocker @Atelgy it’s when… my step-dad and I spend three hours on the...

Featured Post 12 Days of Christmas Poetry Alyssa Brocker Christmas English

·1 min read

My Christmas Present

Josie Dee·December 17, 2016

My Christmas Present written by: Josie Dee @Josi3_dee When the family gathers and the smiles start flowing With...

Poetry Christmas English Featured Post 12 Days of Christmas

·1 min read

Fallen

Criss Tripp·December 15, 2016

Fallen written by: Criss Tripp @CrissTripp I have fallen, Discarded so sudden. Far from home, Lost and...

English Featured Post 12 Days of Christmas Poetry Christmas

·1 min read

Holiday Time

Viktoria Nikola·December 14, 2016

Holiday Time written by: Viktoria Nikola @ViktoriaNNK Ornaments twirling on green needle branches Glittering ribbons and song avalanches...

English Featured Post 12 Days of Christmas Poetry Christmas

·1 min read

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G. Lynn Brown's heart and soul are hopeful romantics but can't type, so she does it for them, exposing their vulnerability and spilling their deepest secrets into her notes app as poetry and the occasional bit of flash fiction. No surprise that, with such passionate and emotionally driven voices within her, love, in all its facets, is the subject of most of her work - romance, daydreams, sweet dreams, soulmates, cosmic connections, and longing, missing, heartache, what if's and what could be's. And when she isn't ghostwriting for her heart or transcribing her soul's diary, G. Lynn is EIC of Micromance Magazine, where she reads and publishes sweet romance flash fiction and evocative romantic poetry daily.

Conversations and Genie by Chris Gee

The Wednesday before my birthday, I remembered trying to do homework and producing nothing but sweat. Even with the doors and windows opened to screens, the air just wasn’t moving. I even tried staring at the mountains and vegging. But my mind kept hearing whispers from town—that the fires raging across its East Ridge would turn on us when the wind changed. Right before dusk, Aunty Meg called me out for evening chores. As I tossed out scratch for the chickens, a gust blew through, dropping the temperature. ...

Features

Table For Three

The Dream Service

Where the Bells Toll

Interviews

Spotlight On Writers – Arshi Mortuza

Spotlight On Writers – Don Flecknoe

Interview Q&A With G. Lynn Brown

Table For Three

The Arena Lies Quiet

Chrysalis

12 Days of Christmas

OURS

My Christmas Present

Fallen

Holiday Time

Still a Porch Light On

Where the Bells Toll

Sometimes I Just Hate Myself

A Recluse’s Last Words Before Going Into Seclusion

Fallen Fruit

The Dream Service

That Kind of Girl

We Are Still Breathing

Grief

Making Love to the Moon

Erasure for Measure

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